


breakfast club sessions

by goldenretrievers46



Series: breakfast club sessions [1]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Homophobia, Pre-Canon, Sunset Curve (Julie and The Phantoms), catholic alex, in which alex comes out to his parents and it does not go well, in which all three boys come together and comfort one another, in which luke argues with his mom about music, in which reggie has emotional blockage about his dysfunctional family, references to the Breakfast Club, summer of 1994, there’s an epilogue with julie, tw for brief self harm ideation and homophobic slurs!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27586586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenretrievers46/pseuds/goldenretrievers46
Summary: “Three boys, three retreats to the stronghold of Bobby’s back shed, where they each knew they’d be safe. Music was their escape in a physical sense, too.“•in which Luke, Reggie, and Alex open up to one another about their emotional pain, featuring references to the Breakfast Club (1985).
Relationships: Alex & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie, pre luke/alex if you squint
Series: breakfast club sessions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2084514
Comments: 16
Kudos: 81





	breakfast club sessions

**Author's Note:**

> hi folks! The idea for this fic came to me on a snowy Sunday afternoon, and I sat down and wrote it in three weeks. I have a lot of feelings about these characters, especially Alex, as I relate to him a ton, so I spilled my heart out in this story. I hope you all enjoy!  
> I’m going to leave a TW for some brief self harm ideation and for antagonistic use of the f slur/homophobia in general. If these things bother you, or if you will be negatively affected/harmed by reading about them, please move on to other works!  
> That should be all, please enjoy the story!

Breakfast Club Sessions:  
Setting: Summer of 1994, California  
Characters: Luke, Reggie, and Alex (aka ¾ of Sunset Curve)

Summertime. It had always been Luke’s favorite time of year. The earth sprang alive with optimism and excitement, the sun beat down with passionate intensity, but best of all, there was music. So much music. Buskers playing the pier, up and coming jazz and indie performers at the cafes, and rock bands in the clubs. Sure, music was around in the other seasons too. But there was something special about the music of summer, the joy and youthfulness which exuded from every artist who strummed a guitar or blew on a trumpet. Last summer, Luke had decided he wanted in on all of it. He’d called up his best friend Reggie and asked, “Do you want to keep sitting in your room with all those Boston cassettes, or do you want to actually do something with your love of music?” Of course, Reggie had been on board immediately, gotten a summer job, and saved up enough money to buy a bass guitar. Next, Luke had contacted Alex, his and Reggie’s childhood friend and current acquaintance, who had played the drums since they were in middle school. It took a little bit of convincing since Alex was anxious about playing in front of people, but Luke had finally convinced him by saying they’d have plenty of practice before their first gig. Lastly, they’d just needed another guitarist. Luke had remembered a chill, talented guitarist named Bobby from his music class, so it was settled. They had met for their first practice in Bobby’s back shed. It took them a couple months, but eventually they named their little project Sunset Curve, and booked their school’s homecoming dance. The rest was history, so to speak. They had continued to practice, practice, practice, spending hours in Bobby’s garage, eating his mom’s cookies and talking about whatever stupid shit had happened at school that week. Finally, they booked gigs and started to get some local notoriety. Luke’s dream was coming true. He had wanted in on it, and he’d gotten his wish. It was all coming together. And now, he finally felt confident enough to start writing his own songs. Sunset Curve would be a cover band no more. This summer, they would be legit. Luke couldn’t wait.

Alex was trying to remember the last time he hadn’t felt like a fake. It wasn’t going very well. Maybe it was before he hit adolescence and realized the world wasn’t all it was chalked up to be, and that he would never truly fit into it. As he sat on his back deck, legs dangling off the edge, he decided it didn’t really matter. He felt like one now, and it was starting to get away from him. The lies of omission, the bro talks with the band, the crushes he claimed to have on random girls from school. All the times his mother had joked about planning his wedding, his future children, and what he sought in a girl, and all the times he laughed and nodded along and placated her by listing personality traits like it was a fucking character chart. He tried to make up for his lies by being the perfect child, pulling good grades and playing by the rules. That felt fake too. It was summer now though, and if he knew one thing for sure, it was that he had Sunset Curve. That wasn’t a farce. The music was real, the drumsticks tangible in his hands, the toms hollow, the snare bold, the cymbals brash, and all around him was Reggie’s laugh, Bobby’s smirk, and Luke’s deep hazel eyes, inviting him into a world of color and life. Alex wasn’t one for fantasy, but the band became his escape, even if he was still lying to them, too. He clung to the railing of the deck, wondering how it would feel to jump off and let his body hit the ground, just so he could lay there for a while, and feel some pain other than the constant whirl of thoughts and fears in his head. He could fly then, be in the air for a few short seconds, just like how it felt when Luke turned back to look at him as they played, eyes flashing and hair swooping and passion flowing out of him. He sought the high of the music, of Luke’s stare, of the detached state where he was the drummer from Sunset Curve, not Alex. He wished he could float there forever, but then the gig would finish, and he would bike home, and it would be like crashing into the ground, pain in his muscles, except in this situation the muscle was his chest, and he couldn’t ask a doctor to fix it. Faking it was all he could do. A faint shout echoed inside his house, his mom calling for dinner. Alex sighed, and stood up, taking one last look out at the ocean and its ebbs and flows. Maybe someday he could put to words how the view made him feel. 

If there was one thing Reggie was grateful for, it was that he had finally turned sixteen, which meant that he had his driver’s license. To be fair, he hated driving. He was easily distracted, and he was always afraid he would zone out beyond saving one day, and find himself in a tragic car accident. Not to mention the fact that the car to his name was an old Ford pickup which was more rust than metal at that point. No, Reggie didn’t really have any reason to like driving other than the freedom it gave him to run away. On the nights when his mother would drink too much and his father would condescend and voices would raise and doors would slam, Reggie would sneak out the back door to his junky truck and fire it up, its spitting and sputtering engine drowning out the insults and shouts and slaps. Sometimes he would cruise over to Luke’s house or to the convenience store, but usually he would just sit in his driveway, waiting until one of his parents stormed out and screeched away in a vehicle of their own. Those were the bad nights. Sometimes, it was good, too. His mom would get sober for a couple weeks, his dad would stop coming home late at night with the smell of sex and cheap perfume wafting off of him, and they’d sit around the dining room table, holding hands and saying grace and eating spaghetti together like normal families do. They’d watch movies, criticize current events, talk about the weather, and maybe even hug each other. Those were the weeks Reggie lived for. Inevitably, his mom would go to the liquor store again and his father would go to the clubs, and the dysfunction would resume in all its chaotic glory. So no, Reggie didn’t like driving. But at least the rustbucket could take him to Bobby’s garage, where he could plug his bass into an amplifier and let the low tones ground him to reality again. The constancy of his friends compared with the up and down nature of his parent’s relationship was astounding to him sometimes. If Reggie knew nothing else, he knew that he loved playing music, because melodies and basslines and beats had a rhythm, and his friend’s hearts all ticked in time with his, a steady, present togetherness. And even though he wasn’t a good driver, Luke was. He commanded the band with an intense ambition, always going the extra mile to get them gigs, even when the gauges read ‘Fuel Level Low’. It was their time to shine, and Reggie wasn’t going to miss it. 

(Bobby wanted to contribute to this weird, venty monologue, but since he had a cushy home life and is a side character, we told him he couldn’t. He won’t even be involved in this story much. Someone give him a hug.)

///

“Boys!” Luke called through the back alley. 

The other three boys turned away from their work of unloading gear to acknowledge him. 

“Yeah!” Bobby replied, his face obscured from view by a stack of plastic tubs filled with cords. 

“The restaurant’s manager just told me that Kevin Segas is here tonight! Kevin frickin Segas! He’s one of the biggest record execs out there, and he’s gonna hear OUR music tonight! This could be the moment we’ve all been waiting for. All this hard work and time, and our songs, boys. He’s going to hear our songs!” Luke finished his rant, giddy excitement coursing through his body. He couldn’t even stand still. 

“Whoa, dude!” Reggie said.

“This is awesome,” Alex agreed, a laugh evident in his voice. “Now I’m more nervous than usual.”

“We’re gonna do great, guys. I believe in us,” Luke replied, gripping Alex’s shoulder in an affirming squeeze. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good, can you guys maybe help me with these containers?” Bobby cut in.

They all laughed and resumed their set up, this time with anticipation.  
-  
For all intents and purposes, Luke would say the gig went well. He had stepped onto stage, his Fender hanging from his body, and approached the microphone like it was a long lost lover. Then Alex counted them off, and they tried their hardest to empty their hearts, transferring the energy to the audience. After the show, Kevin had asked to speak with them, and of course Luke had said yes. Kevin said they were green, but had potential, and to keep playing. It was like Christmas had come seven months early. Now, they were in Reggie’s rustbucket, headed back to the shed to celebrate. They were all still on the high of the music, the crowd, and the compliments, and the energy carried through the night as they lay on the couches in the studio, drinking lemonade and eating some well-deserved burgers. By 12am, Alex took his leave, citing the fact that he had mass in the morning. Luke knew he should go home too. His mom expected him, and he hadn’t called to say he was staying the night, but he didn’t really care. Not when they’d just had one of the best shows of their lives, and not when he could sit in the studio with his friends and talk about their hopes and dreams. Sometimes he wished Alex wasn’t such a perfect kid. If his parents were making him go to church, he wouldn’t go. But Alex was Alex, tightly wound, and Luke was Luke, throwing caution to the wind. Maybe that’s why Alex was the one out of all of them who had a genuinely satisfying relationship with his parents. Whatever the case, Luke didn’t want to read into it too much. He simply wanted to drink up the night and digest his experiences, never letting the high come down. So he lay back on the futon, resting his feet on Reggie’s lap, and stared at the trusses while Bobby chattered about his newest conquest. This was his happy place. 

The next morning, as Luke walked into his house, he realized his mistake. His mom rushed to him, tear stained cheeks, worry evident on her features, but it was mostly obscured by a mask of anger. Luke knew his mom well enough to know she loved him, but she just didn’t understand. He wasn’t going to college like they wanted him to, he wasn’t going to give up the band, and he definitely wasn’t going to be tamed. So she yelled at him about his irresponsibility, and he stood there and took it. What else could he do? But it wasn’t over yet. She would hear his case. Music was all he had. It was everything he had. He wouldn’t let her take it from him. So, even as she screamed that he was grounded for a week, he was walking out the door. He felt bad. He really did. But not bad enough. 

It was Sunday brunch in the Mercer household, and Alex could barely stomach his eggs and bacon. They’d just gotten home from mass, a weekly family ritual that Alex wished he could skip out on. His parents weren’t even that religious, but they insisted on dragging him and his sister to church every week, because it was the “right” thing to do. Maybe they were correct, but Alex wasn’t convinced. It all seemed like a horse and pony show to him. He wished he could just tell his parents what was swirling in his brain, dish out a few sarcastic quips about how fucked up he felt sometimes and go on his merry way. But that would be a nonstarter, would it not? So instead, he picked up his knife and slashed open the egg yolk on his plate, watching its unappetizing contents spill out in front of him. Yeah, that’s how his parents would feel if he spilled his heart out, if he uttered the one word, the one descriptor, that people whispered to one another like a curse. And maybe it was, just a little bit. He was doomed to be hated, seperated from society, singled out, if he ever dared to speak that one little sentence. He was doomed to hate himself a little too, that damn Catholic guilt always making an entrance even though he hadn’t believed in years. Despite all the reasons not to, Alex didn’t know how much longer he could hold it all in. The one word, the one sentence, the whole truth. He didn’t know how much longer he could reasonably fake it, lie to everyone in small ways that were really big ways. He dipped his toast into the yolk, watching the yellow liquid soak into the grains and wishing someone could absorb all his pain, just like that. If only someone could take his pain. If only.

Reggie arrived home on Sunday evening to find his parents in the middle of an argument. It wasn’t the first time they’d thrown the word divorce around, but there was something different about the tone of it this time. He tried not to think about it too much. He’d been alone his whole life, it made no difference to him whether his parents split or not. At least it would be a done deal, and they wouldn’t be playing this longsuffering game of cat and mouse, where no one won and everyone lost. There would be no driving away tonight; he was low on gas. So he snuck down to his basement bedroom and popped a cassette tape into the stereo, letting the melodic guitar and crash cymbals drown out the conflict above him. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying not to throw himself a pity party. Reggie considered himself to be a pretty optimistic person. Not nearly as much as Luke, but he preferred to see the world with a glass half full mentality. He just had to keep telling himself that it would get better once Sunset Curve actually made it somewhere. Once they were successful. And then maybe he could pay for his mom to get into rehab, and tell his dad to fuck off and go sleep with the burlesque whores in Vegas, and then it would all be over, and he could build a family of his own, find a nice girl and settle down, and be a better parent to his child. On nights like tonight, however, that vision seemed far away. On nights like tonight, he felt suffocated by the ever present fear that no one really understood him, that no one cared enough to look beyond the sweet, dorky persona he’d made for himself, not even the boys. He desperately just wanted someone to hear him. Couldn’t they see how he was always screaming? Or was it silent, hidden from the world? He wished he could make some noise, show some emotion, but when you stopper something long enough, the rubber seals. If only they could hear without noise, if only they could see without light, if only someone could just telepathically know that he was dying inside, and rush to his house and embrace him. What a pipe dream. 

It was shaping up to be a rough week for the boys, at least the three who were still in town. Bobby’s family was taking their annual summer vacation out to the mountains, so they had left the Monday after the show. By the time Wednesday rolled around, none of the boys had had the opportunity to see one another. Luke was grounded, Reggie was busy working his job, and Alex would’ve been free, but he wasn’t feeling very sociable. Their Sundays had really thrown them off, and while they tried to act like everything was going well, they all felt a weight sitting on their chest, ever present and suffocating. 

It was Thursday when Alex’s mom came into his room and explained that they’d be having the Abbot family over for dinner the following evening. Charlene Abbot was an old college friend of his parents, and she, her husband, and her two daughters would be in town, and had decided to stop by for a very brief meal to catch up. Alex took this news without much of a thought. His parents always liked to entertain, and while he didn’t appreciate guests and being forced to socialize with middle-aged adults, it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. By the time Friday came around, however, Alex was in a bad mood. His mom had been going on about Charlene’s daughter, Ashley, and how she was a lovely girl, sixteen just like him. His mom always did this with him and his sister. She would joke about them dating or marrying her friend’s kids, but sometimes Alex wondered if she was really joking. He knew it made Katie uncomfortable too, but they both just smiled and laughed it off, however awkward the comment was. With that being said, Alex knew he was in for quite the time with Ashley sitting across the table from him. While he was setting the table with their nice dishes, the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the Abbot family. His mother rushed to the door like an excited dog, and his father shut off the television in the living room, walking to the table with a resigned step. He was very introverted and always felt stressed about guests coming to their home. Katie dropped her knitting needles on the couch beside her and jumped up to take her place at the table. Ah yes, the perfect American family. How empty it was. 

“OH! Charlene, Dave, Ashley, Leslie… come on in!” His mom chorused, opening the front door. 

“It’s so good to see you again, Linda!” Charlene returned, giving her friend a hug. 

Alex could tell that they would be in for a lot of “wine mom” talk, as he and Katie called it. Ashley and Leslie looked as awkward as he felt, and like the gentlemanly boy he was, he got out of his seat to pull out a chair for Ashley, who his mom had strategically placed right next to him. Dear god. Now, Alex didn’t have anything against Ashley. They hadn’t seen each other since they were five, and upon first glance, she seemed like a nice girl. She wasn’t bad to look at, either, and from the few sentences she’d uttered since they arrived, Alex could tell that she had the same kind of witty humor he did. Theoretically, he should like her. He should be pleased that his mother knew him well enough to pick out the kinds of people he liked to be around. But it was the incessant pushing of his mother, the veiled remarks about how he hadn’t had a girlfriend or even a significant crush yet, and the feeling that maybe his mother knew more about him than just what personality traits he found appealing. He didn’t appreciate being forced into a box, especially when he’d tried to fit into it for so long, and found that the box was in a completely different dimension. How was he supposed to fit into something he couldn’t even access? Oh well. He just had to make it through dinner. Maybe Ashley would feel the same and they could be friends and help each other through the comments of their parents. 

“Now, Alex here is in a rock band!” His mom was saying. “He plays the drums with some other lovely boys he knows from school.”

“Oh, for fun!” Charlene replied, cutting into her casserole with a pointed expression on her face. “Ashley, dear, don’t you listen to some band- you know- the one with the creepy smiley face on everything?”

Ashley looked annoyed. “Yes, Mom. They’re called Nirvana, for the thousandth time. Or they were. Kurt Cobain died this spring. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“But they’re your favorite!” Charlene continued.

There was silence for a beat, and then she turned her attention towards Alex. “What’s the name of your band, Alex?”

“Oh, uh, we’re called Sunset Curve. We used to play covers and stuff, but now we do mostly originals. My friend Luke’s the lead singer, he writes most of our music,” he explains, eyes trained on the milk jug in front of him. 

“That’s pretty neat! I’m sure you get lots of girls doing a thing like that,” Charlene said with a smug, conspiratorial look on her face.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I mean, I don’t really, I mean, I’m just the drummer, so girls don’t really care about me, but uh, Luke definitely does. I mean, he’s a very good frontman. Girls love him,” Alex stammered. 

“I think drummers are cool,” Leslie piped up from the other side of the table, her thirteen year old eyes bright with admiration. Okay then.

“Of course they are, son,” his dad interjected. “Girls would be dumb not to fall for you, eh?”

“I suppose so. I mean, I’m definitely not as cool as Luke or Bobby, but I try,” Alex replied lamely. This was going worse than he expected. 

He glanced over at Ashley, who was badly trying to hide a smile as she stabbed a piece of lettuce. She looked over and caught his eye, and a telepathic message was exchanged between them which Alex assumed roughly said, “Our parents are insane”. He allowed himself a little chuckle, and she giggled back. He regretted this as soon as he realized his mother had seen this interaction. She was now firing knowing looks at him from across the table. 

This whole entire evening was so frustrating to him. He could barely sit still in his seat. Instead of a meeting between old college friends, this felt more like a blind date courting ritual, where each mom competed in how many suggestive quips they could make about their two teenage children liking one another. It was exhausting. Even if he did like Ashley, he would still hate the incessant pecking of his mother and her need to constantly make him feel awkward around his female peers. It was even worse knowing that he didn’t like her, and never could. His anxiety was coursing through his body now, and he tried to tame it by taking a deep breath and shoving a piece of homemade bread in his mouth. Then he couldn’t talk and make a fool of himself, or somehow give his mom any more unfounded evidence that he was going to fall madly in love with the quiet, angsty girl beside him. Four hinting comments, three questions about his love life, two questions about the band, and one frazzled Alex later, dinner was over. His parents walked the Abbot family to the door, and his mom and Charlene hugged in the tipsiest fashion possible, and finally, the ordeal ended. Now all Alex had to do was clean up the kitchen and go up to his room, where he could rant to his sister about their overbearing parents and listen to some CDs. Unfortunately, he did not get this opportunity. In the end, it was all his sister’s fault. 

“Alex and Ashley are such alliterative names,” Katie teased as they put away dishes. “It would sound so nice on a Christmas card together.” 

Alex did not want to give her the satisfaction of a spoken response, so he opted to flick up his middle finger at her. 

“MOM!” his sister shouted. “Alex just flipped me off!” 

Alex knew this was just a part of the sibling routine they had, but he’d rather not go through it right now. 

“Alexander!” His mother reprimanded. “You know better. Plus, Katie’s right, your names do sound nice together.” 

Alright, this was a little much. Alex loved his mom, but damn. She would not leave this topic alone. 

“Yeah, whatever,” he said. “It’s kinda weird that you try to pair me up with all your friend’s kids.” 

“Really? I thought you’d like Ashley. She’s very sweet and has that dry humor and she’s into music. Plus she’s a pretty girl. Me and Charlene were just joking around, anyway,” his mom explained.

“Well, Ashley also lives in Wisconsin. And it’s not just Ashley! Everytime I even mention a female friend you suddenly act like we’re married! It’s really weird and embarrassing, Mom.” 

Alex didn’t even realize that he’d raised his voice until he looked over to see Katie with her eyebrows raised, holding up her hands in surrender. 

“Alright, this is my cue to leave,” she deadpanned, shuffling past her nonplussed brother. 

“I don’t act like you’re married, I simply recognize when you have a lot in common with a pretty girl. What’s wrong with that? Most boys would be happy that their mother approves of them dating,” she pointed out. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not. You act like I’m going to fall in love with every girl I set my eyes on. Well, guess what, that’s just not how it works. I have plenty of other things to focus on besides girls! I have to focus on keeping my grades up during school, there’s always the band to think about, and spending time with you guys.. I mean, I don’t need a girlfriend right now. Relationships are stressful!” Alex ranted.

He was starting to crack under the weight of the lie. He could feel it now. All of the hidden emotions were working their way to the surface without his consent. He just wanted her to understand, dammit. He wanted her to realize why it was so awkward for him when she shoved girls onto him like they were multivitamins. They were good for his health, and if he didn’t take them, she was sure to get upset with him over it. 

“Alex, why all this pushback about girls? I mean, you’ve never even mentioned liking a girl before,” his mom continued. She was too perceptive for her own good. “I know you’re focused on other things, but maybe you should try to put yourself out there a little more. Try asking a girl out, or use your drummer status to get you a date. Relationships aren’t all stress, you know.”

She had spoken these last few lines in a softer tone, and Alex knew she really did care about him. But this was lost on the fresh tears that were now rolling down his cheeks. 

“Alex, hey? What’s wrong?” His mom was asking now. She moved to try to hug him, but he backed away. 

“Nothing,” he replied. 

“It’s clearly not nothing,” his mom tried to reach for him again. “You can tell me, Alex. Did some girl break your heart? Is that why you’re so upset when I joke around?”

“No! No, it's nothing like that,” he glugged, a sob caught in his throat. 

“Then what is it, honey?” His mom’s eyes darted around his face, searching, pitying, waiting. 

Alex couldn’t hold it in anymore. It had already been an emotional week, and now here he was, crying in his kitchen, considering telling his mom the one secret he’d been terrified to share with anyone, simply so that she would stop forcing girls on him. But it was a lot more than that. He wanted to tell her to alleviate his guilty conscience. All he was made of were lies. Sweet, placating lies. Maybe it was time he told the truth for once. So he gathered all the courage he could muster, and in a small, weak voice, he whispered truth. 

“I think I’m gay.”

Then everything changed. 

His mom stepped away from him, her face dropping. The hopeful searching was replaced by pitying confusion, like she was desperate to walk into his heart and steal those four little words and lock them in a box so he could never utter them again. 

“Alex, honey, no, what? You must be mistaken. You can’t be sure, I mean, you’ve never even tried to date a girl before,” his mom rambled, scrambling for some explanation for why her son had turned into the fears of a good Catholic parent. 

“Exactly,” he said. “If I wanted to date a girl, I would have by now.” 

Even though his mom wasn’t taking the news very well, Alex felt a sense of relief settle into his gut. There would be no more hiding for him.

His mom was still leaning against the kitchen counter, dumbfounded. 

“So, what? You’ve just decided you’re a queer? Alex, you’re sixteen. You’re young! You have so much more life to live and things to experience. I’m sure this is just a phase that you’ll get over.”

Alex thought she was saying that to convince herself more than him. He was mildly frustrated now. 

“Mom, it’s not like I chose this, you know? I didn’t wake up one day and decide to be gay. It just kinda happened. I- I don’t think it’s going away,” he said. 

“No! No, Alex, don’t you dare say that! You just haven’t met the right girl yet.”

“I don’t think so, Mom,” Alex sighed. 

He felt defeated, too. He wished he could be what his family wanted him to be, what society wanted him to be. It was so hard to be a homosexual. What with AIDS, and gay rights being a hot button issue… no sane person would choose to be the minority. But what could he do about it? It was the cards he’d been dealt. 

“Alex, you know it’s wrong. I mean, it’s in the Bible. What are you going to do? Live a homosexual lifestyle? Go back on everything you’ve ever been taught? You can’t do this to us, Alex,” his mom almost pleaded. 

“Yeah, someday I might just live a ‘homosexual lifestyle’”, he mockingly air-quoted his mother’s words. “And I won’t feel guilty about doing it. I’ve spent too much time feeling… ugh, I don’t know, afraid and scared over it, and honestly? I don’t know if I believe all of that. I mean, how could loving someone else be wrong? I’m not hurting anything!” 

“But you are, Alex! You’re hurting our family, and you’re hurting yourself. You’ll never be able to get married or have kids, you’ll probably end up with AIDS, and then what am I supposed to do, huh?”

“Oh my god, mom, anyone can get AIDS,” Alex grumbled in exasperation. 

“But gay men are way more likely to get it, Alex,” his mother tried to reason, but it ended up coming out more like a yell. 

“Whatever,” he said, not willing to argue about it with her. “Look, it’s not my first choice either. But you’re just going to have to accept that this is who I am!” 

He was crying again. The tears tasted bitter and fragile. 

“Alex, I can’t accept it! You’re throwing everything away for a deviant lifestyle, everything you’ve worked for. And you’re throwing away your family,” his mom was ugly crying now, hoarse as her voice raised. 

“I’m not throwing anything away! You’re the one who’s not accepting me! You’re the one who’s throwing me away!” Alex yelled, exasperated. 

“Well, I’m sorry that I didn’t ask to have a faggot for a son!” His mom shouted back. 

Silence. Deafening silence. It was the loudest silence he’d ever experienced. He felt like he’d been slapped. A catching sob broke through the quiet. It was his own. 

“What on earth is going on in here?” His father’s voice cut through the tension. 

His mom turned to his dad, her big, sorrowful, angry eyes imploring for help, tears streaming down her face. Alex locked eyes with his dad, who gave a questioning glance which said plainly “what did you do to your mother?”. He couldn’t find the words to say anything. He was still shocked by his mother’s words. So instead, he rushed out of the room and ran upstairs. He had to leave. He couldn’t remain in this house any longer, he had to get out, even if it was just to collect his thoughts. He quickly threw together an overnight bag, ran out the side door, grabbed his bike, and peddled into the night. 

//  
Luke didn’t resent his mother, exactly. In fact, he really did love her. His dad always said that the reason they fought so often was because they were so alike. But sometimes, all of those logical phrases he repeated to himself about how he would graduate in two years and be able to spread his wings and then he could mend his fraying relationship with his mom couldn’t win over the more emotional, angry part of his mind. He had this dream, this picture in his head. He could see it so clearly, like a blockbuster film just waiting to top the charts: Sunset Curve, playing the Orpheum for all the record executives, their ears attuned to the fresh new sound coming from the stage, their hands fishing in their pockets for a notebook and a pen to write down their name. Then, they would get signed and go on their first real tour, and he’d watch the smiles on people’s faces as he imparted his music to them. They would be renowned. Alex, Reggie and Bobby could see it too, even if their vision wasn’t always as clear or direct as his. But his mom? She didn’t see it, she never even tried. He laid back on his bed, hugging his notebook to his chest. How could he make her understand that this was his path, that this was his destiny? Nothing else could ever make him truly happy. 

“Luke, come down for dinner!” His mom called.

Time for an unspoken battle. He bounded his way down the stairs, sliding into the kitchen on his socks. Even if he was frustrated with his mom right now, she had made her homemade macaroni and cheese, and it was his favorite. He was ready to dig in. 

“Oh man, thanks for dinner, Mom. It looks really good,” he enthused. 

She gave him a tight smile. 

“You’re welcome. Let’s eat. Mitch!” she beckoned for his dad to come out of his office. 

“Coming!” he called back. 

Soon, the family was all sat around the dinner table, holding hands as they said grace, and Luke wondered who would lead in the post prayer conversation. 

“So, Luke, I thought that next weekend we would go on some college visits so that you can start thinking about where you want to apply next spring,” his mom began. 

“What? No! Mom, Sunset Curve has gigs booked next Friday and Saturday, I can’t skip out on the band to go look at some school!” Luke protested. 

“Yes, you can, Luke, and you will. You have to start prioritizing your future. Now, we can start with the state schools that have higher acceptance rates. Have you thought any more about what you might want to major in? You know there’s always music, if that’s something you still want to pursue in college,” his mom continued. 

See, this is what was frustrating to Luke. They acted like his music was just a distraction from the “important” things of life, instead of an important thing in its own right. They constantly emphasized certain words in a passive aggressive way to make it perfectly clear that they would not support the band as a serious endeavor. 

“I’m not gonna major in music! That degree would be useless anyway, I’d just waste four years I could be dedicating to building the band’s reputation,” he replied. 

“And what are you going to do if that fails? If the band fails? You have to have a plan, a reasonable plan, and it starts with visiting some universities and seeing what appeals to you. And you have to get your SAT scores up next year. 1100s aren’t going to cut it for some of these schools,” his mom advised. 

“Yeah, I know all that,” he argued. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re not going to fail, Mom. We’ve been working so hard lately, and every time you pull me away to check out some stupid college, it sets us back. I’m the leader, and they need me at practices and getting gigs, not sitting in an admissions office with some old dude talking about how I need to get my act together. As if!” 

His mother sighed, stress lines wrinkling her face. 

“I’m just trying to help you, Luke. And you will be visiting schools with me next weekend.”

“What?!” Luke spluttered. “But, Mom-“

“Can we just drop it for now?” his mom implored. We’re just trying to have a nice family dinner, and look, you’re already giving your dad a headache.”

It’s true, he was. But he didn’t care. He had to be at those shows next weekend. A band wasn’t much good without their frontman. So despite the requests of his mother and the migraine of his father, he decided to push. Pushing was what he did best, anyway. 

“No, I can’t just drop it! You guys act like good grades and college are the only way I’ll ever be able to make it anywhere in life, and you completely look over the fact that Sunset Curve is going to make it somewhere, if you stop standing in our way. I’m not going on tours next weekend. I have to be there for the band.” 

“You have some nerve to defy your mother like that, son,” his dad scolded. 

“Luke, I understand that you care a lot about this band right now, but you can’t afford to not put some effort into school and your future. Otherwise you’re going to have to give up this little hobby of yours,” his mom threatened.

Now, that was a low blow. They’d never alluded to making him quit Sunset Curve before. He immediately jumped out of his seat. 

“Well guess what, I’m not putting any effort into school because I’m not going to go to college. Ever! I’m going to be on tour with my band, and then you guys will never be able to tell me what to do anymore! I’m sick of both of you always acting like you know what’s better for me than I do. I need music. It’s the one thing I can give to people and a language we all understand. Everytime I get on stage, it’s like I’m supposed to be there and nowhere else, and it makes me so happy! But you don’t care enough to notice that, Mom. I’m not going to college, I don’t care about my SAT scores, and I’m definitely not going on tours next weekend. I don’t care what you threaten me with!” he ranted, the volume of his voice increasing as he continued to speak. 

His mom was a strong woman, though. It was the alikeness that his father always referred to, their stubbornness, their inability to compromise, their big hearts and their caring attitudes and their fiery spirits. He admired all of these things in his mom because she had given them to him, and it’s what made him such a great leader. But when that immovability was pointed at him, it was hard to appreciate it in the same way. He knew she wouldn’t back down without a fight. 

“Luke Peter Patterson!” His mother exclaimed, also rising from her chair. “All of this strong will has gone far enough! You can’t just not listen to your parents! You have to trust that we know what’s best for you. I never should have bought you that guitar…” she trailed off. 

Luke sobered, his stare growing colder. “That is the only good decision you ever made for me.” 

His mother’s jaw dropped, and his father also rose from his seat, shouting his name with a stern anger. Luke wanted to scream. Why did no one hear him? Why could no one understand? He wasn’t going to wait around for his parents to give him another talking to. He needed to get out, clear his head, write some lyrics, cry for a little bit. He needed to be alone. He could feel the clenching growing in his throat and chest, and he would not cry in front of his mom. So, he turned on his heel, yelling a few words about how he was leaving and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow, and to not bother looking. The door slammed behind him as he ran down his front steps and onto the sidewalk. The fresh air swept into his lungs, giving him some new strength. He didn’t even try to stop the tears that were soon running down his cheeks. 

//  
It was another night for a fight, and Reggie wasn’t sticking around to hear it. Fridays were always kind of bad in the parent department because his dad always went out for weekend drinks with his co-workers, and he always inevitably came home after 11pm, his eyes blown and his hair mussed from imprisoning some girl in the bathroom for a conjugal visit. There was also the fact that his mom had started drinking when she got home from work this evening at 5, and these two events occurring in the same evening usually led to a battle. Bobby’s family was out this week, which meant that Reggie could go to the garage, plug his bass in, and get lost in the rich, rhythmic vibrations. It was a warm night. The summer air was humid, but fresh, and Reggie could feel the wind from the sea ruffling his hair as he hopped into the rustbucket. As always, the old pickup struggled to come to life, but soon he was cruising down the freeway, just five minutes from Bobby’s place. The clock on his dash read 9:15. 

//  
Three boys, three retreats to the stronghold of Bobby’s back shed, where they each knew they’d be safe. Music was their escape in a physical sense, too. 

Luke arrived first, dropping his bag on the floor and immediately falling onto his couch. His legs no longer wanted to support his weight, his body was tired, weathered by the emotions of the past hour. Part of him just wanted to curl up and go to sleep, the other part wanted to plug his guitar into the amplifier, letting power chords ring out and his own screams ricochet off of the walls. He did neither of these things. Instead, he pulled out a notebook and started writing. Usually, he would pen song lyrics, but his thought process wasn’t orderly enough for that, so he began to scribble endless frustrations between the lines of the pages, trying his best to sort through all of the pain and hurt and resentment he felt. Luke felt like he was vomiting his guts onto the paper. The nausea before had been hellish, and the process didn’t feel pretty, but he craved the sweet relief that would come after. Word after word, sentence after sentence, grudge after grudge, regret after regret, all splayed out in front of him like a confessional. All there was left to do was write more. 

Alex arrived second, allowing his bicycle to clatter against the concrete as he rushed into the garage, chest heaving and tears still streaming. Coming out to your parents was a stressful enough situation, but when you’re rejected and have homophobic slurs hurled at you, the stress level increased tenfold. Every pedal rotation on his way to Bobby’s had felt like trying to pull Excalibur from the stone. And Alex wasn’t Arthur. No, instead he was drowning, his lungs catching and his heart racing, he was drowning, his hands shaking and his head pounding, he was drowning, his mind racing and his soul aching. Alex rushed into the shed, where he knew he could sit down, find some water, and attempt to bring his consciousness back to a state of calm. What he was not expecting was to find Luke there, his hyper focused gaze trained on a notebook where he scratched incessantly with a pen. The door clicked shut behind him, and Alex felt his vision blur a little. 

“Luke,” he said weakly, still gasping for air. 

Luke’s eyes snapped up from his work, his expression quickly reflecting concern. 

“Whoa, Alex, hey buddy. What’s wrong?” he asked, rushing over and gripping onto Alex’s shoulders with a firm but kind hold.

“I can’t breathe,” he replied. “I’m kinda freaking out a bit right now.”

“Come on, you gotta sit down,” Luke said. “Do you think you need water?”

“Not right now,” Alex choked out. “I- I just need to relax. Please don’t leave me.” 

Luke’s gaze held his like an anchor. “No, of course not. I’m right here, Alex. I’ve got you.”

Even though Alex felt like he was fading, dying, Luke’s presence tethered him to reality, his left hand cupping his face, his right hand gripping his shoulder. Luke’s fingers swirled exquisite patterns across his cheek, and somehow Alex felt that the lines would be etched there forever. As his heart rate descended to a normal speed, as his lungs felt fuller with each breath, and as his stomach settled into its average state, Alex couldn’t help but feel that Dawn was breaking, and Luke was the sun, holding him, grounding him, caring for him. What were those whispers he heard, low and sweet? 

“You’ll come out of this, you always do. Hold onto me,” Luke was saying softly.

Alex clasped his hand onto Luke’s arm, tangible and warm. The sun had risen now. The fog was lifting, and suddenly his head seemed clearer. 

“Oh wow,” he breathed. “That one was really bad.”

“Yeah,” Luke agreed. “Do you want that glass of water now?” 

“Sure, yeah. That would probably be good.”

Alex laughed shakily, his whole body still feeling tense and jittery. He lay back on the couch, letting the cushions melt around his skin. 

“Here you go,” Luke said, returning with the glass of water. “What happened?” 

Alex’s brain shortcircuited. He didn’t even know where to begin with the events of the evening, because telling Luke the details of the fight with his mom would mean coming out to him, and while he knew Luke was supportive of gay people, he was still stressed out by it. He’d wanted to do this on his own terms. Maybe he still could.

“I, uh, I had a fight with my mom,” he said softly.

“Oh,” Luke replied, finally sitting back down on the couch and letting Alex’s head rest in his lap. “You almost never fight with your folks. Is everything okay?” 

“No,” Alex answered honestly. “It’s not. But it’s a long story. And I really need to figure out how to explain this all to you. I don’t really know what to say.” 

“That’s okay. You can take your time. I don’t have to be home early anyway.”

Alex sat up. “But, your parents, won’t they-“

“No. I had a fight with my mom too,” Luke admitted.

“Ah. What a pair we are,” he quipped ruefully before collapsing back into Luke’s lap, his eyes studying the knots in the wood on the ceiling. 

“Yeah,” Luke chuckled, but it was sad and empty. 

The room fell silent, Alex still trying to figure out what to say and how to explain his sexuality and his situation to one of his best friends, the one friend whose passion and stare he couldn’t bear to lose. Luke’s restless hands found their way into his hair, absentmindedly twisting and playing with the strands. For whatever reason, this simple action relaxed him even further. Maybe their conversation wouldn’t go badly after all. 

Reggie arrived third, the telltale sound of his rumbling truck greeting Luke and Alex before their friend himself. They supposed it was fitting that their other close friend would show up just then, especially since they were in the garage of the one friend who couldn’t be there. When Reggie walked into their practice space, he didn’t expect to find his other bandmates sitting there, staring into space. But there they were, and part of him felt like he had walked in on a private moment. There were unspoken thoughts threading between them. 

“Uh, hey guys!” Reggie greeted anyway, trying to be as cheerful as possible, but it was out of place in the heavy environment. 

“Hey Reggie,” Luke replied. “You getting away from home too?” 

“Yeah,” he sighed, dropping his bag. “Bad night?” he guessed, noticing Alex’s disheveled state and Luke’s red eyes. 

“Something like that,” Alex mumbled from his spot on the couch.

Reggie knew just the fix for that. It lay in the intoxicating scream of the electric guitar, the reverberating thump of the bass, the drowning crashes of the drums. That way, he could feel without words, without having to express himself, without having to think about what all the emotions in his head really meant. 

“I mean, we could play some songs, channel our shitty evenings into some music?” he offered.

Luke glanced at Alex, a question in his eyes.

“I’d be okay with that,” he agreed. 

But Alex stood up. He had finally found his voice.

“No, I think I need to talk about what happened tonight. I’ve actually been meaning to talk about this for awhile but now I kinda need to. Oh, don’t look so concerned. No one’s died,” he tried to joke, but it sort of fell flat. The mood had become even more serious. 

“Alright. What’s going on, bro?” Luke queried.

Alex rocked back and forth on his heels, fidgeting with his fingers, and while he looked nervous, he managed to say the next words very confidently. 

“I’m gay.” 

“Okay,” Luke replied, shrugging his shoulders like it was no big deal.

“Honestly? Not that shocked,” Reggie agreed. “What with you and Luke gazing into each other’s eyes,” he said jokingly. “But really dude, not a big deal.”

Alex rolled his eyes fondly. 

“Says the guy who shares a mic with him at every show we play,” he returned. The light manner was back now, and Alex was visibly more relaxed by his friend’s reactions. “But thanks for being so chill about it. It’s kinda… terrifying?”

“Hey, don’t thank us. We’d be shitty friends if we didn’t support you, I mean, that’s just basic human decency,” Luke said. 

“C’mon, let’s hug it out,” Reggie suggested. 

It was like coming home to your warm, cozy bed after a long, exhausting day when Alex felt the embrace of his two closest friends. His life had been defined by imposter syndrome since he was eleven. He was always walking through life, desaturated and plastic, never tangible and lively. The only place he had felt like he could express himself was onstage with Sunset Curve. And then earlier with his mom… he still wasn’t ready to face the next day of hardship and pain. But for now, he could cling to the safety and warmth of the night, his friends’ care for him, and the fact that he wasn’t faking it anymore. They knew every inch of him, inside and out, they could truly see him now, authentically, without all of the pretense he’d perfected so carefully. 

“Alex, why did you decide to tell us now? I mean, what happened tonight? You were a mess when you got here,” Luke asked now as they went to sit down on the couch again. 

“Oh, yeah, my family hates me now!” Alex exclaimed sardonically. 

“Did you come out to them?” Luke asked.

“Well, yeah. I didn’t really mean to. It just kinda happened,” he admitted. “It’s kinda a long story.”

“Fuckin’ go for it,” Reggie said. “We have all night. Plus you’ll probably feel better if you talk about it. I mean, that’s why people go to therapy.” 

“Alright, well. My mom was having one of her old college friends over to catch up, and of course the whole family comes. And they have a daughter Ashley who’s my age, and my mom and her friends think it’s ‘funny’ to joke about their children being in relationships with one another, so this entire dinner was basically just me and this girl that I barely know receiving comment after comment about how we’d look good together and shit like that. And it’s frustrating not only because it’s the most goddamn embarrassing thing but also because it just reminds me that I don’t like girls and never will and I’m just fucking acting all the time, like playing a part. And my mom got nosy about why I was uncomfortable and I just kinda broke down and decided to tell her. I mean, I can’t keep it a secret forever, right? I don’t know. I didn’t expect her to react well, but it went way worse than I thought it would,” Alex paused to catch his breath and contain some emotion that had resurfaced as he recounted the events of the evening. “She freaked out and said it had to be a phase and when I finally did convince her that it’s not just going to go away, she got angry with me. Like physically angry. She’s never been mad at me like that before, and I just felt so horrible. You know? I didn’t choose to be gay.”

At this point, Alex was talking through a choked up voice. He couldn’t tell if he was more sad or angry about the whole situation. 

“I’ve literally spent all my life trying to please my parents. I’ve always been the good Catholic boy. And you guys give me so much shit for it, but it’s kinda true, right? I wasn’t like either of you guys with your rocky relationships with your parents. Or even like Bobby, I mean god knows his parents act like he doesn’t even exist. But whatever, I always had it so good. And I’m so close with my mom. I’ve always just wanted my family to be happy and I never wanted to rock the boat at all, and then my sexuality has to come along and fuck it all up,” he lamented. 

“Hey, Alex, don’t blame yourself for all of that,” Luke interrupted. He had that look on his face of an angry puppy. 

“I’m not, really,” he sighed. “It’s just hard to not hate yourself just a little bit sometimes.”

“You shouldn’t have to feel that way,” Luke protested. 

“Yeah, I know. But I do.” 

It was a sad fact. Luke might have zealous outrage at Alex’s mom for what was objectively awful treatment of her child, but Alex couldn’t see it that way. If he had been his mom, he didn’t know if he would’ve reacted any differently. Sure, he was hurt. Sure, he wished things were different. Sure, his mom had yelled insults at him and said extremely hurtful and misguided things about gay people. But he still loved her, he still saw it the way she did. It was contradictory, and part of Alex wished he could totally resent his parents in that moment, but he couldn’t. They still loved him, even if they hated who he was. 

“Anyway, I don’t know what’s going to happen from here. My mom called me a faggot tonight. That’s when I ran out of my house and came here.”

“Ugh, that is so not cool of your mom!” Reggie exclaimed with disgust.

“Yeah, seriously, that’s not okay. If your parents can’t even be decent about something you were born as, they don’t deserve any kind of respect from you, Alex. It’s really hard, okay? I know you’re close with them. But fuck them! They should be able to treat their son like a normal human being and not throw slurs at him for just existing,” Luke ranted passionately. 

“No, I know. I keep running through all the possibilities in my head, like, they could kick me out, but I don’t think they’d do that. I don’t think they’re mean spirited enough for that. But it could happen, and then I have no idea what I’m going to do. I don’t know. I just have to keep telling myself that it’s going to be fine. More likely than not they’ll try to get me to talk to the priest or send me to a psychiatrist or something. Which I don’t even know what I’d say to them, because they’d try to get me to turn straight or whatever, and I can’t go back to acting again, but if I don’t I’m probably going to lose any chance of ever being close with my parents again, and I just really can’t see them changing their minds, I mean, maybe if it was a different time in the world and there weren't all these anti-gay movements happening right now and it wasn’t such an issue? It’s just really scary and all of this is not helping my anxiety.” 

“Well, for what it’s worth, you can always stay at my place if your parents kick you out,” Reggie said. 

“Yeah, me too. And I’m sure Bobby would say the same. We’ve got your back, Alex,” Luke agreed. 

“Thanks, you guys. That’s nice to know if it comes to that.”

“And Alex? Try to not be so hard on yourself. I know it isn’t easy, but it’s not a curse. It’s beautiful that you are the way you are,” Luke affirmed. 

Something about that last statement really resonated in Alex, especially coming from Luke, who he’d been most afraid to lose in all of this. Luke was his rock, always full of energy and life, always revitalizing him and making him feel alive when the world around him seemed so hazy. All he’d wanted was acceptance, and he had that and more. He had love and support too. Emotions running high, he thanked Luke again in a watery voice. Unsurprisingly, he was crying again, although this time it was a different kind of tear. These ones felt all-consuming in a good way, like a flood of joyful energy was cascading through his entire body. It almost made him shiver. Here he was, in the place where he felt truly at home, with two of his best friends standing by him. He was the luckiest person in the world. That is, if he didn’t count the situation with his parents. But for once, he felt at peace. That could be dealt with later. Right now, he was in the company of comrades, bandmates, allies. Everything was correct. 

//  
It was an understatement to say that Luke was relieved that Alex had told them the truth about his sexuality. Luke knew he came off as pushy and idiotic sometimes, and he wasn’t the smartest in school, but he wasn’t dumb. At least, not when it came to his friends. He had seen that secret slowly devour at Alex for the last two years, and while he hadn’t been exactly sure that his friend was gay, it wasn’t a surprise. He had noticed the slight panic, the put on tone, and the obliviousness Alex had when talking about girls, or when girls talked to him. Inversely, he had seen how Alex looked at some of the guys from their school, how he got nervous around them, how he passed that anxiety off as insecurity rather than a crush. Even more obvious was the way Alex looked at him, but he didn’t want to think about it too much, because then he would have to confront it, and he wasn’t sure that he was ready for that conversation yet, either. Regardless, he now understood why his friend was so tightly wound. Luke could pick fights with his mom over music because that was a choice, a decision he was making for himself. And while that choice was a very important part of him and his identity, Alex’s identity wasn’t his choice. It just was. And the fact that Alex needed to hide it angered him. If Luke lived in a world without consequences, he would march over to Alex’s place and give his parents a piece of his mind, tell them off for rejecting their own son and making him feel like shit. They deserved to know the pain they put their child through. It was why he fought so much with his mom, too. She had never made an effort to listen to him, it was always the same boxes to fit into, the same rules to follow. Context didn’t seem to exist to her. It was extremely frustrating, and as he sat on the couch next to his friends, he had the urge to scream. Calm yourself, he repeated in his brain. Everything will be fine.

“Luke, you good?” Reggie wondered now.

Alex, who was carefully dabbing his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, turned to Luke to notice his annoyed expression as well. 

“Yeah, what happened with your mom?”

“It was just yet another fight about the band. It’s not anything compared to your night.”

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t important. Not to be an asshole, but you kinda look like shit right now,” Alex said matter-of-factly. 

Luke rolled his eyes. “Wow, thank you, I tried really hard on this new look! But yeah. I don’t know. I don’t really want to talk about it. If I do, I’ll just get mad again, and I don’t think anyone really wants that. It’s just really frustrating when I try to explain that I’m the leader of this band, and I have a commitment to you guys and to music, and she doesn’t listen and overrides me and tells me she regrets ever buying me a guitar. She acts like this is some stupid teenage pipe dream and not something we’re actually working for, and like, I don’t know how to get it through her one dimensional brain that we’re actually going to make something of ourselves. I mean, we’re all in! Ugh, I don’t even know anymore.”

And he slumped back onto the couch, feeling discouraged and dejected and misunderstood and livid all at the same time. 

“I know this sucks right now, but just think about when we are actually successful. I mean, you get to prove them all wrong, and then… they’ll be proud,” Reggie said with a soft smile. 

“That’s what I keep telling myself,” Luke humphed. 

“And same thing goes for you, Luke. We’ll always support you, right? When things get shitty, you can always come to my place and we can go for those really nice refreshing runs on the beach,” Alex offered. “I mean, as long as I have a home, of course,” he added, but it wasn’t serious. 

“I kinda think all of us need to just, like, take a day. You know what we haven’t done in awhile? Get street food. I’m really craving a nice hot pretzel at the moment,” Reggie remarked.

“Dude, same. Next show we have, we’re getting pretzels after,” Luke said. “Thanks for having my back. It’s nice to know, you know?”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, his smile bittersweet.

“You know what this reminds me of? Like, this little group therapy session we seem to be having right now?” Reggie asked.

“What?” the other two responded in unison.

“The Breakfast Club. Do you guys remember watching that movie at Aimee’s house a couple years ago?”

“Oh, yeah! I honestly don’t remember it though,” Luke admitted. “Because I was trying to flirt with her the whole time.”

“Oh my god, I remember that,” Alex exclaimed. “She was very not interested.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know why I thought I could pull girls at fourteen, to be honest,” Luke chuckled awkwardly. “Anyway.”

“Yeah, when you had your braces,” Alex quipped. “And that stupid little bowl cut.”

“Alright, you know what Alex, you can shut up,” Luke retorted.

“Great comeback,” Alex deadpanned. “I just remember thinking that John was a lot. He kinda stressed me out.”

“Everything stresses you out,” Luke shot back.

“And your point is? He harassed everyone for, like, half the movie.”

“Just like you harassed Aimee with your bad pick-up lines,” Reggie remarked, continuing the bantering. 

“Hey, I’ve gotten better,” Luke defended.

“You definitely have,” Alex muttered. 

“At any rate, I think it’s kind of funny that we’re having our own little breakfast club session,” Reggie commented. 

“Speaking of which, what’s up with you tonight? You’ve been pretty quiet, what brought you here?” Luke asked.

Reggie felt a bit like a deer in the headlights. He didn’t really want to talk about it. “I just wanted to get out of the house, y’know? Come over here, practice a bit…”

“Your parents are fighting again, aren’t they?” Alex inquired softly. 

Damn Alex for being so perceptive. They couldn’t really blame him for evading. He had always been the optimistic one of their group, the comic relief. Alex coming out to them and asking for acceptance? He could deal with that. Luke having yet another argument about music with his mom? They’d been there a million times. He cared about his friends, and he liked comforting them. But when it came to his own situation? That was a harder sell. They knew his family wasn’t the most functional, Luke especially, but he knew that they would never truly understand the extent of it, how physical they could get sometimes, how sometimes they fought about him, how sometimes the weight on his chest was so heavy he felt like he was going to have a heart attack. Alex and Luke did understand, however, that it was an uncomfortable, unhappy topic, and they kind of had an unspoken agreement to not talk about it. But tonight? After everyone had opened up? Emotions were running high. He felt weirdly obligated to, but how could he even explain it all and find the words? So instead of embarking on a long rant like the other two had done, he said one simple sentence.

“Yeah, they are.”

Luke’s face changed now. It seemed that he’d forgotten his own anger and introspection as soon as Reggie confirmed Alex’s question, and he was now at attention. Luke knew this was a touchy subject, but Luke being Luke, he would probably push anyway. 

“Same old, same old?” Luke wondered.

“Something like that,” Reggie said in a sober tone. “It never really stops.”

“You know, you can talk about it. If you want. I know we never really do, but it might help you,” Alex offered. “I feel much better after talking about my little problem.”

Reggie wished he could talk about it. It was like the words he wanted to say were locked away in a little box, and he had thrown away the key. 

“I don’t really know how to,” he admitted. 

“I mean, you kinda just talk,” Luke commented.

“Well, no shit. I just. I don’t know. It’s hard.”

“Take your time, man,” Alex encouraged softly. 

It was silent for a few minutes as Reggie attempted to collect his thoughts from the dark corners of his mind, the ones he had told himself were not appropriate, the ones he loathed himself for thinking. The only sounds were Alex playing with the zipper on his fanny pack, and Luke incessantly tapping his nails on the coffee table. 

“My mom started drinking again,” he said finally, figuring that this problem might be less difficult to tackle. “And of course when that happens, my dad starts cheating again. Sometimes it’s the other way around. She drinks because he cheats, or he cheats because she drinks. Whatever, I don’t really care why they do it. It happens.”

He paused here, unable to figure out where to go from there. He wished one of his friends would ask another question, but at the same time he didn’t. He was afraid he might not know how to answer it (or want to). 

“So, tonight, I just decided I wasn’t going to be there when they got home. Save myself the stress.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you for that,” Alex agreed. 

“I am going to be so happy when I’m able to move out. It’s just. I don’t even want to be home anymore. They make me feel so angry sometimes, and I don’t even know why. I don’t even really have reason to be. My dad works hard so that we can have a nice house, and he goes on business trips all the time for us. And I mean, he really does love my mom. And my mom tries too, she has her part-time job with the firm, and they really do try for me. It’s not all bad,” he tried to reason.

“But?” Alex questioned.

That was just it, wasn’t it? There was a contradiction and a refutation of all of what he had just said, what he had been telling himself for years. 

“But,” he agreed. 

“I think you have plenty of reason to be angry, Reg,” Luke said. “Even if they provide for you, they still fight all the time, and, and, there’s no excuse for your dad to just cheat on your mom like that. Even if she is drinking, which brings up the question, why the fuck has she not gone to rehab yet?”

“Because she’s still functional. She still gets up every morning and goes to work. You know how all those AA things go- step one is admitting you have a problem. Sometimes I think she’d rather die than admit that she’s an alcoholic. You know, sometimes I think… I think the cheating is her fault. I mean, she doesn’t put any real effort into her relationship with my dad, she sits on the couch and drinks glass after glass of wine and totally ignores him. What else is he supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, maybe not fuck other women!” Alex exclaimed sardonically. 

“Yeah, Reg, that’s not- she’s not- your dad should be helping her, he should be getting her into counseling or something. Your mom isn’t making great decisions, but if he really cared, he wouldn’t be doing that shit,” Luke continued. 

“I guess not. It’s just so damn complicated. Like, who’s even at fault for it at this point? Sometimes I’m afraid it’s me,” he admitted. “They fight about me once and awhile, but. I don’t know. Maybe no one’s to blame.”

“It’s not you,” Alex said. “They’re the adults. They should be smart enough to work out their own issues. Don’t blame yourself, man. It’s not worth it, and you’ll just feel crappy about everything. Trust me.”

“Yeah. It gets so loud,” he admitted softly. “And I just don’t know what to do with myself. I usually go out and sit in my truck. Sometimes I come here. It doesn’t usually last very long until one of them storms out.”

“Jesus Christ,” Luke muttered under his breath. 

“I’m so tired of noise- exhausted by it- that if I don’t have it, I feel like I’m going crazy,” Reggie continued. “I don’t know if that makes any sense, but.” 

“I think I know what you mean,” Alex agreed. “You don’t want to be left alone with your own thoughts for very long.”

Reggie nodded. He realized now that Alex understood a lot of what he was feeling. He, too, had had to hide his thoughts and emotions, afraid of what they might say about him, about the world they lived in. Luke was trying to understand it, but he would never truly grasp what it meant to hide behind a veil, never feeling, or feeling too much. Something had happened in his soul though. The box was fracturing, the stiffness loosening, and he realized he was surrounded by people who wanted the best for him. He could bare his innermost parts to them, and they would listen and understand. A breakfast club session, indeed. There was a pause for a little bit as Reggie built up the courage to say what had been on his mind all evening, behind the justifications and the fleeting thoughts and anxieties which paraded around his mind. The room was dead silent. Then, he spoke. 

“I really think I hate my parents.”

It was said in a hoarse voice, barely a whisper. That had been the one thing he’d been afraid to admit for years. It wasn’t just a dislike, or a resentment. It was stone cold hatred. His parents had told him to love and taught him to hate. How ironic that was. 

“Truly?” Alex asked, his eyes sad. 

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his expression dropping.

How was it possible that he could hate anyone? That’s what killed him about the whole thing. Despite his parent’s faults, the one thing they instilled in him from the time he could form a thought was kindness and respect. They may not have had a lot of it for each other, but they expected him to have it towards others. And then there were Luke’s parents, who were always attentive to him when he was younger and treated him like Luke’s brother, like their own son. He knew Luke had his issues with his family, but the truth was that his childhood best friend’s parents had been more involved than his own. They especially encouraged him to love and create, and played upon the part of him that enjoyed telling jokes, and they were patient with him even when he was slower in understanding things than his peers. He had become the person he was today because of Luke and his family. Or so it appeared. He had spent so much time clinging to the light that he had let the dark creep in without realizing it, and it had lined the walls of his heart. Reggie suspected that this was the reason he found it so difficult to talk about his emotions- how could he, when they were so full of sadness, despondency, anger, and fear? All he wanted was to bring joy to those around him, and instead he got saddled with feelings of hatred towards those who had instilled those values in the first place. Even though Reggie knew he had a right to hate them, after all they’d put him through, he couldn’t shake the feeling that sometimes, he wished they were dead. And he couldn’t help but feel that was wrong. So now, here he was, in front of his friends, telling them the truth. Would it be freeing?

It was then that the floodgates broke. There was so much more to talk about, so much more pain to sort through, but his admission had been the gist of it all. It was like throwing the door to a cellar open and watching the dust poof and the light flood in to see all of the jars lining the shelves, sealed and covered in grime. The light of his friends, the pure despair he felt about his family, that they would never care for him as parents should, his own self-hatred and guilt- it was all coming forward. And for the first time in years, he didn’t try to stop it. The sobs came, short and jerky. They were the kind of sobs where the pain in your lungs and chest is sharp with every breath, the kind of sobs you have when you have nothing left, when you haven’t cried in two years, when you haven’t let yourself feel anything at all in sixteen. His friends immediately reached out to him, and he let himself fall into Alex’s shoulder. Although the tears hurt, it was also strangely cathartic to allow himself to cry, to let Alex’s arms snake around his shoulders, to feel Luke’s gentle fingers rubbing his back in comfort, to be touched lovingly by a person. When was the last time he had experienced that quiet intimacy? He didn’t know. But here he was now, in the gentle clutch of friends. That’s all that seemed to matter, then.

//  
Something changed that night between the three boys. It was subtle, but there nevertheless. A new transparency was born. They could always tell when something was off with the others, and they weren’t afraid to talk through their problems and frustrations and secrets. Bobby soon became a part of these conversations that they would have on occasion, which they all still called breakfast club sessions. The support and found family of the band became especially helpful when Luke ran away from home that Christmas and was distraught over how to mend his mutilated relationship with his parents, when Alex would argue with his parents over his sexuality or get overstressed and anxious, when Bobby would struggle with his own insecurities and fears, when Reggie would escape from yet another parental confrontation. Sometimes they would happen in the studio after a practice, other times they happened in Luke’s bedroom as they lounged on the carpet eating homemade cookies, and they even happened on the beach as they all relaxed after a nighttime swim. They all felt that they could rely upon one another for anything. As Sunset Curve became more known and successful, the boys bonded even further, traveling in Bobby’s van to different clubs in the LA area, sleeping in parking lots and eating street food together. It was all playing according to Luke’s grand plan. One year later, they were at the Orpheum Theatre. Success was right around the corner. 

Until it wasn’t. 

//  
2020  
If someone had told Julie Molina a year ago that she would have a successful pop rock band with three teenage ghost boys from the 1990s, she would have laughed in their face and told them they were crazy. Of course, now it was a reality, but that didn’t change the fact that she still felt a little crazy sometimes.

What was even crazier was how much they reminded her of her mom at times. She could find her in Luke’s passion, Reggie’s humor, and Alex’s care for those around him. And after the night at the Orpheum, with the dahlia and the broken spell, she was sure that the boys were connected to something more than just a family acquaintance. Maybe one day she would figure out the pith of the story, and she still held a tiny sliver of hope that her mom was a ghost too, and maybe the boys could find her and connect them. But, it was probably all a pipe dream. As Dr. Turner would say, “processing grief is a complicated thing, with many steps to take”, and these psychological facts just confirmed to Julie further what others had feared for the last year: she was going a little crazy. In all reality, she had mostly finished the grieving process. It had been a year, and she had slowly adjusted and healed, and music and the boys had helped her find herself again, too. But that didn’t change the fact that some days, it was still hard. Today was one of those days. She sat on the piano bench in the studio, slumped over the keys, slowly caressing the wood with her fingers. Music wasn’t the same without her mom. It never would be. Eventually, she knew she would be okay with that. But right now, she missed the feeling of her mom’s cold fingertips on her shoulders, the melody of her voice and the rhythm of her laugh, and the way that she never doubted Julie, even if she doubted herself. How empty the studio was without Rose. For the first time in awhile, Julie let tears track down her cheeks, hot and heavy. 

“Hey Julie!” Reggie exclaimed, popping in just then with the other boys. “Woah, what’s wrong?” he asked, noticing her glistening eyes. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she replied, wiping her eyes.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me,” Alex commented gently. 

“Yeah, you can talk to us, y’know,” Luke added. 

“I don’t know, it’s just me being sad about my mom. It’s not a big deal. I can handle it,” she said. 

Luke knelt down on the floor beside the piano bench and took Julie’s hands in his, his gaze kind and expectant. 

“I know you can handle it, Jules. But that doesn’t mean you should have to, alone.”

“You know, before we died, we didn’t always have the best lives either,” Reggie said, resting his hand on Julie’s shoulder, his fingertips frigid, not unlike a phantom of someone else dear. “But we relied on each other. We’re family. We’d have these nights sometimes, where we’d talk about how we really felt about things. So I think it’s time we introduced you to breakfast club sessions.” 

Julie turned to Reggie with a quizzical expression. 

“Like the 80s movie?” 

“Yeah, like the 80s movie. I named them,” Reggie smiled like a dork after his admission.

“You guys are so weird,” Julie laughed as she sniffled and brushed more tears away from her eyes. 

“Hey, it’s all Reggie’s doing,” Alex quipped. “But seriously, Julie. We do care about you. And if you want to talk, well, welcome to the breakfast club!” 

From Luke’s caring gaze, to Reggie’s present touch, to Alex’s inviting words, Julie knew in that moment that she couldn’t be more lucky. She had a support system, true friends as well as bandmates. 

“Alright, I’ll give this breakfast club thing a try,” she agreed. 

And how wonderful it was.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading, I hope you loved reading this as much as I loved writing it.  
> It would mean the world to me if you would leave a kudos or a comment detailing your thoughts!  
> I’m always game for feedback. If you notice any editing or grammatical errors please let me know.  
> My tumblr is tiriansjewel if you feel so inclined to follow.  
> -Hannah


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